Beauty and the Beast
by LittleRedLily
Summary: Lily Evans, a naive resident of Hogsmeade, has yearned for an adventure all her life, the kind she always read about in stories. Little does she know, she'll get more than she bargained for when a young, arrogant prince goads himself into a curse and it's up to her to break it. Lily and James meet in another world under different circumstances and, as usual, everything goes awry.
1. The Exchange That Changed It All

- Chapter One -

_The Exchange That Changed It All_

The dark-haired man stood his ground as he came up against his opponent in the comfort of his well-lit hallway, his arms folded firmly across his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. His opponent didn't falter at his gaze. Instead, he stared him directly in the eye, his stare cold and his expression loathing.

'As if you,' said the first man harshly, 'know a curse that can do all that you claim.'

'Don't underestimate the strength of dark magic,' replied the other man, fingering his wand underneath his black robes.

The first man burst out laughing. 'You?! Dark magic?! That's a lot for a _Squib_ to boast about.'

The opponent's lip curled in anger. 'This is your last chance to repent, or else you will pay.'

He began laughing again, clutching his sides to support himself. 'Take your best shot. I'm not afraid of you.'

The second man began muttering inaudible words under his breath, staring intently at the man he swore to be his enemy. Laughing, the dark-haired man turned on his heel and began walking in the direction he came.

'I don't feel any different!' he called.

'You will do in the morning!' the other man yelled.

And in an instant, he was gone.

_(Many Christmases later.)_

The night was certainly picturesque, with the dark, inky sky scattered with dozens of constellations that twinkled happily above the snow-covered roofs of the little houses of Hogsmeade.

While the scenery looked like something straight off a Christmas card, the night air was harsh cold and biting. But this did not affect the residents of Hogsmeade greatly as they celebrated Christmas with their loved ones, safe and warm by their roaring fireplaces in the company of those whom they adored most.

In this one particular house lived a family of four who were just finishing their Christmas dinner. There were but few morsels left on the plates which were laid out neatly on the small dining table. It was rare that such a meal was enjoyed in the Evans's household, since the little money which came from Mr Evans's potioneering job was often spent on necessities – luxuries were for richer people who had money to spend frivolously.

So rare were luxuries for the Evans's two daughters that the very youngest, a girl named Lily, was ecstatic to have been given a hardback book titled _Hogsmeade: A History _by some Bathilda Bagshot. It was, however, a hand-me-down – it had been her mother's book, and her mother's mother's book before that. Indeed, such was Lily's delight at having been given such a treasure that she was still smiling from ear-to-ear about it by the time she had finished her dinner, despite having to help clear up the table with her older sister, Petunia, and feeling so full she actually wondered if she might explode.

When her share of the chores was finally done, Lily grabbed her new book off the table from where she left it and was about to make her way upstairs to the bedroom she shared with Petunia, yearning to start reading the book already, when her mother waylaid her at the foot of the stairs to speak to her.

'You be careful with that book, won't you?' said her mother, a rather sweet-tempered woman, quite sternly. 'It's been in our family for quite about a century, maybe even longer. It's practically akin to an heirloom.'

Lily merely blinked and nodded at this information, unsure of how to react.

'Some of the stuff in there is quite outdated, of course,' Mrs Evans continued, prising the book gently from Lily's grip and opening it to flick through some of the pages. 'If we could have afforded a much more recent copy … but yes, while you should take some of the information in this book with a pinch of salt, it does tell of some fascinating stories … myths, even …' she continued flicking through the pages idly until she came across something which made her smile fondly. 'This one I remember my mother reading to me as a child! Yes, this was her favourite. Here …'

Mrs Evans turned the book around so that Lily could see it. On the right side of the double page spread was a detailed drawing of what looked like some kind of monster. Its face was repulsive, contorted with rage, with its fur an ashen shade of brown.

'Why was this one her favourite?' Lily asked curiously; it looked like a positively grotesque story to her.

'She believed it was real,' said Mrs Evans, shaking her head slightly. 'Yes, she believed that this monster was real, and that she would find it someday. Of course that was a foolish and outrageous idea – the castle in which the monster was rumoured, many decades ago, to have lived was never found. And the historian who wrote this was publically humiliated.'

'Publically humiliated?'

'Yes, it was rather a shame,' Mrs Evans continued, 'she was a great historian in that era until she published this book full of – of – _fantasy_. Needless to say, she sold her land and moved away, probably to somewhere a lot quieter where people wouldn't point and stare and whisper at her when she went for her morning walk.'

'Is she still alive?' Lily whispered, engrossed in the tale her mother was telling her.

Mrs Evans laughed slightly. 'No, no, she must be long dead now; this was many, many years ago, after all.'

'But where did such a great historian get horror stories from?' asked Lily.

Mrs Evans shrugged. 'If my memory serves me correct, she wouldn't reveal the source of this information, possibly to spare them the humiliation she was going through. Undoubtedly, it was a raving loon she might have met on one of her history expeditions.'

Once again, Lily wasn't sure what to say to everything she had just heard – her imagination was racing at hundreds of miles an hour. Seeing her eyes brighten, which was often the tell-tale sign that she was scheming, Mrs Evans said sternly, 'That's enough for one night. It's time for you and Petunia to go to bed. We have to get up bright and early to go to Grandmamma's tomorrow.'

Lily nodded, quickly kissed her mother on the cheek and raced up the stairs to the small room she shared with Petunia. She turned the round door knob, pushed open the wooden door and was enveloped in darkness.

She felt in her pockets for her wand, pulled it out and whispered, '_Lumos_'.

'Argh!' came a groan. 'Shine that light in another direction!'

'Oops, sorry,' Lily said quietly, directing her wand at the floor. 'I didn't realise you'd be asleep. It's a little early, isn't it?'

'No, _you're_ a little late,' Petunia said grumpily, turning to face away from Lily.

Lily merely shrugged and made her way to her bed after closing the door behind her; Petunia was always like this, ever since … but that was irrelevant now.

After a change of clothes and a lot of stumbling around in the dark, Lily crept into bed and snuggled up into a little ball where she could ponder on what her mother told her about the monster. Was it real, or was she being gullible? It's true that her grandmamma was quite an eccentric person, but surely if a renowned historian believed the myth to be true, then it _had_ to be true. Such a clever and sharp woman would not make such claims of a castle and a beast if she didn't have evidence for it.

It was while dwelling on these thoughts that Lily fell asleep, only to dream about castles and beasts and forests and wild adventures. When she was awoken in the morning by her worried-looking mother, it was to find that she was quite sweaty; the dream must have gotten intense, but she could hardly remember it now.

'You must bathe and then get dressed, we have to leave soon,' said her mother briskly, after checking the temperature of her forehead with the back of her hand. 'Quick, quick, your sister is already done!'

Lily could see Petunia smirking behind her mother as she checked her reflection in the mirror and neatened her dull brown hair for what must have been the millionth time, although it didn't look any prettier – if anything, it just looked plainer. Trying not to be resentful, Lily groggily staggered out of bed, grabbed a towel, her wand and a change of clothes, and headed to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her and then turned to the bathtub.

Slowly, she took off her snow-white nightdress and let it fall to the floor. With a wave of her wand, she filled the bathtub with hot water, placed her wand on the side of the sink and crawled into the water. At once, she felt calmness sweep through her body and started relaxing before remembering the time limit she had. She gave her long, dark red hair a fast but thorough wash (or as fast and thorough as she could what with her hair being so thick), quickly scrubbed her body clean, and stepped out of the bathtub.

After patting her unusually pale skin dry, and squeezing a lot of the water out of her tangled hair, Lily slipped on her turquoise and white dress, grabbed her wand and murmured, '_Evanesco_' to clear up all the water in the bathtub, and left the bathroom.

It only took a few moments for Lily to dry up her hair and put it neatly in a bow, put on her prettiest shoes, grab her book, and be outside of their little home, waiting for her mother to tell them to get on the carriage. By this time, her light green eyes were bright with alertness and her skin had the faintest glow.

Lily cradled the book that was in her arms as she looked over at the Thestral that was to take them to Lily's grandmother's cottage. They were large horses with skeletal bodies and wings which looked similar to those of a bat's. Lily was unafraid of them. She approached the Thestral slowly and looked in its chilling white eyes. The Thestral didn't move, except to blink.

'Lily!' came a sharp voice. 'Away from that thing!'

Lily almost dropped her book, feeling startled, and hastened to Petunia's side by the carriage.

'Stay away from the Thestral,' Mrs Evans warned, bustling around with the many bags she was holding. 'Now, you two behave at Grandmamma's, won't you? I don't want any bickering. And – eurgh – where is your father?!' She went back inside the house, leaving Petunia to smirk at Lily.

'You heard her,' she said. 'Don't start any fights.'

'I didn't do anything,' Lily said irritably, '_you_ did. And _I _took the blame.'

'You make yourself sound like such an angel.'

'Next to you, anyone would sound like an angel –'

'Girls, girls,' said Mr Evans abruptly, looking quite harassed at being chivvied out of the house by his wife, 'be nice, it's practically still Christmas.'

*.*.*

The journey to Mrs Evans's mother's cottage was a very quiet one; they all sat in the hooded carriage in a bitter sort of silence, Lily and Petunia still resented being reprimanded by their parents. Lily was itching to open up _Hogsmeade: A History_ which was still in her arms. But, being sandwiched between her mother and her sister, there was hardly enough room to breathe let alone to open and read it comfortably.

Lily's grandmother's cottage was just a little way away from Hogsmeade, but the bumpiness of the road which caused a lot of discomfort made the journey feel a lot longer.

'Why couldn't we go by Floo powder?' Petunia groaned, after yet another violent jolt.

'I've told you, dear,' said Mrs Evans with little hint of impatience, 'Grandmamma's having her living room redone.'

'Thestrals are bad luck,' Petunia continued in the same whiney voice. 'This day is going to go awfully.'

The winter sun was quite high in the sky by the time the carriage pulled up outside Lily's grandmother's cottage, indicating that it was around midday already. They all stepped out of the carriage and onto the crunchy, white snow, and Lily and Petunia waited for their parents to sort out their clothes before they knocked on the cottage door.

It only took a few moments for the little old lady to open the door for them, a large, warm smile on her face. Mrs MacDonald had a very kind face; she was small and plump, and her wispy grey hair was almost always knotted at the back. Today she wore a large apron over a lace-patterned cream-coloured dress as she stood there in the doorway, glad to see them on what still felt like Christmas day.

She took a few steps back into her cosy little living room to let them all in from the cold and enveloped Lily and Petunia in tight hugs individually.

'How are my favourite girls?' she asked warmly, looking from one to the other.

Lily couldn't help but beam back, all resentment from earlier completely evaporated.

'What's that you've got there?' Mrs MacDonald enquired, referring to the book Lily was still holding tightly in her arms.

'_They're _your favourite girls?' came a shrill voice. 'Grandmamma, you told me _I'm_ your favourite girl.'

'Oh, come now, Mary,' said Mrs MacDonald. 'You can all be my favourite girls!'

Mary strode into the room, flipping her short brown hair behind her, a stony expression on her face and her arms folded stubbornly. She was a few years younger than Lily, but this was made up by her naturally bossy attitude; she was very skilled in getting things her way.

Mrs MacDonald left the three girls alone to speak to her daughter and son-in-law. There was an awkward silence amongst the girls as there often is after one meets a friend or a relative for the first time in a while.

'So …' said Lily slowly, 'you've … not changed one bit.'

'Neither have you,' grinned Mary, indicating to the book Lily was holding in her arms. 'Never see you without a book.'

Lily shrugged. 'Books are the best friends a person can have when their life is as mundane and uneventful as mine.'

'It can't be _that_ bad in Hosgmeade,' said Mary, starting to walk to the hallway and beckoning them to follow.

Lily mimicked choking. 'Dead as a Dementor.'

'Dementors aren't dead,' Petunia muttered irritably under her breath.

'Well, they're not exactly alive either, are they?' Lily retorted. 'Mary knows what I mean, even if you don't understand.'

'Oh, quit your bickering, you two,' said Mary, rolling her eyes as she pushed open the door to the dining room and the kitchen.

It was a lot more crowded in the dining room and the kitchen with aunties and uncles conversing amongst themselves, and the sound of stew bubbling in the pots on the stoves above all the hubbub. The smell of cooking food was strong and made Lily feel quite hungry. As a child, she had always been impressed that such a little cottage could hold so many people, but now it dawned on her that it might just be magic.

Lily and Petunia's presence was quite overlooked due to all the business of the adults, except for one person who noticed them enter the room with Mary.

'Lily! Petunia! Hi!' Marlene waved across to them from the other side of the room.

Lily and Petunia waved back, the latter half-heartedly, and when Marlene waded through the sea of relatives to join them, it was Lily who hugged her first.

'Marlene! It's good to see you!' said Lily enthusiastically. 'How long have you been here?'

'Only about an hour or two,' Marlene replied, tucking a few strands of dark brown hair behind her ear. 'I think you're the last ones, so we can get started with lunch as soon as Grandmamma finishes making it. I'm starving.'

'Me too,' Lily said earnestly.

Just then, Mrs MacDonald entered the room with Mr and Mrs Evans, and demanded that the young girls helped her with preparing lunch while the adults caught up with each other.

'Grandmamma, how much food are you making?!' Lily spluttered, bemused by the number of pots that were cooking and the ones that had already been cooked.

'You know her,' said Mary in an undertone. 'She reckons we don't eat if she's not around to see it.'

Lily and Marlene sniggered.

'Now, you girls can go thinking that I'm crazy,' said Mrs MacDonald defensively, 'but just look at how much thinner you've all gotten since the last time you were all here! You can giggle all you want, but Grandmamma knows best, and you should all eat as much as you can here before your parents take you home to starve.'

'Grandmamma,' said Mary, 'if I wanted food, I could just conjure it up.' She picked up Mrs MacDonald's wand from the kitchen counter and swished it around, somehow mesmerised by it.

'You can't produce _food _from nothing,' said Marlene. 'Food is the first of the five Principle Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.'

'And put down my wand,' Mrs MacDonald added, stirring the contents of one of the pots. 'I don't trust you with that; at best you'll end up poking someone's eye out.'

'Grandmamma …' Mary whined, although she obeyed.

Eventually, lunch was laid out on the dining table and everyone sat down to eat, grateful for the ending of the torture that was waiting for Mrs MacDonald's delicious food. Spirits were rather high as people talked amongst themselves. Lily found herself sitting in between her grandmother and Mary, listening to the talk. On one side, she could hear talk about the launch of a new broomstick company, and on the other, a law the Ministry was bringing in regarding the age a witch or wizard were to be before they could order a drink from the pub alone.

'I noticed you have my old book,' said Mrs MacDonald quietly, cutting up her food.

She was so quiet, Lily almost didn't hear her.

'Oh – yes, Mother gave it to me yesterday, she said it was special.'

Mrs MacDonald nodded, more to herself than to Lily. 'It is a very special book indeed. Keep it close at all times.'

For a moment, Lily battled with herself trying to figure out how to word the question she had. 'Did you – did you really believe that story in the book about a monster?' asked Lily hesitantly.

Mrs MacDonald shrugged. 'That is neither here nor there. What matters is what _you_ believe to be true.'

Lily found herself whispering loudly: 'But what made you believe a story like that?'

'Lily,' Mrs MacDonald began, turning to look at her granddaughter, 'have you ever believed something on an instinct? You're not sure why you believe it, you just do? You have this faith something is right and real, and perhaps it makes sense, perhaps it doesn't, but something is telling you it's real?'

Lily shook her head – honestly, she couldn't say that she believed in such a thing.

'When you do, you'll understand,' said Mrs MacDonald.

'What do you mean "when"?' Lily asked curiously.

But Mrs MacDonald had already finished her lunch and started tidying up the table and dumping the dishes in the sink, leaving Lily with a lot to think about.

'What were you two talking about?' Mary asked, playing with what little food she had left.

'If I knew, I would tell you,' said Lily with a small sigh.

*.*.*

When lunch was over and the dining table was cleared, they kept to their seats where they could talk even more amongst themselves. Mrs MacDonald handed out shatterproof jars with little fires inside them to keep everyone warm. Lily found herself feeling a little lonely with Marlene, Mary and Petunia talking amongst themselves. She decided to step out of the little cottage for some fresh air, which she did so completely unnoticed.

The air was harsh and biting against Lily's soft cheeks, and, as the days were shorter, it was already getting dark. Lily found herself keeping the Thestral company. It was tethered to a post nearby so that it didn't get away and perhaps attack any passers-by. She patted its head and stroked its neck gently, unflinching as it were to her.

'They didn't have to tie you up,' said Lily softly to it. 'You'd have stayed if they told you to, wouldn't you?'

The Thestral bobbed its head slightly, which Lily took to mean "yes".

'You Thestrals are intelligent creatures,' Lily went on. 'Everyone thinks you're unlucky, but you're not. Just because people who have seen death can see you … you can understand everything I'm saying right now. That's how you knew where Grandmamma's cottage was, wasn't it?'

The Thestral merely looked back at Lily, but the swishing of its tail led Lily to believe that it was enjoying her company.

'Lily!' came a shriek. 'Mother _told_ you to stay away from the Thestral!'

Lily turned around to see Petunia glaring at her.

She shrugged at her. 'It's not going to hurt me,' she said. 'Look, Tuney.' Lily stroked the young Thestral again, demonstrating its harmlessness.

'You … _freak_,' hissed Petunia. 'How can I look at something I can't _see_? Mother told me to go see where you've gone and you're _here_ playing friends with this … this _monster_.'

Lily felt quite wounded, for some reason. 'If you can't see it, how do you know it's a monster?'

'Because I have _sense_,' Petunia huffed. 'If people say Thestrals are dangerous, that obviously means they're dangerous. You don't have to have Merlin's brains to figure that out.' She turned on her heel and left Lily in the cold.

Thankfully, it was only a matter of moments before they were entering the carriage once more. Lily kissed her grandmother and aunties and uncles goodbye. Her grandmother gave her a warm hug and whispered in her ear, 'Don't do anything too dangerous or outrageous, okay, Lily dear? I know what you're like.'

'_Me_? _Outrageous_?!' Lily laughed. 'You must have me confused with Marlene.'

Mrs MacDonald patted Lily's arm as she climbed into the carriage. After one waving to the family one last time, they were off riding into the night. As Lily hugged herself to keep her shielded from the cold, it was with a jolt that she realised the book wasn't in her arms – undoubtedly she had left it at her grandmother's. The last time Lily remembered having her book was right before helping lay out lunch … on the small kitchen counter, that's where she left the book.

Bitterly cursing her forgetfulness, Lily leaned back and let herself fall asleep for the journey. Like the night before, the dream she had was quite a strange one. There was a beast and a forest and a castle, and this time, a request.

Two words.

'_Help us._'

A sudden bump in the road and a very abrupt halt outside their house woke Lily up. She grumbled at the rude awakening and wished it had come just a few moments later, as she struggled to remember the dream. Rubbing her head where she hit the back of the carriage, Lily stepped out and stumbled in through the front door which her mother had unlocked. It was then that she remembered why she was feeling down – she wished she hadn't left the book behind before she even had a chance to read it.

Wallowing in self-pity again, Lily stumbled up the stairs and into her and Petunia's bedroom. She illuminated the room with her wand light and was about to change into her sleeping clothes when something on the bed caught her eye.

But surely it couldn't be –?

Yet there it was, clear as day, face-up on her bed.

The book was back.

* * *

**A/N: It's a tiny bit slow to start off with but I promise this fic is going places.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	2. Conflicts and Conclusions

- Chapter Two -

_Conflicts and Conclusions_

For a few days after their little visit, Lily insisted to her family that she _had_ left her book at her grandmother's, but no one was willing to listen. They chose to believe, instead, that Lily had the book with her all along, but she didn't remember.

'Now that I come to think about it, I don't remember that book _not_ being in your arms, Lily,' Mr Evans had said to her.

Lily would have persisted if she had the energy, and the ability to do so without losing her patience. Instead, all she could do was marvel on how the idea of a book that could transport itself seemed so bizarre to her family, yet the concept of magic was one they accepted without questioning.

Lily didn't touch _Hogsmeade: a History_ again. She kept the book in a bag, deep in the bottom of her wardrobe underneath piles and piles of clothes in the hope that she would never have to face it again. She had tried to throw it away, but her mother somehow kept catching her at it, and got very cross.

It seemed to Lily that the longer she kept the book untouched in her wardrobe, the more vivid her dreams became. Now she was exploring dark passageways in the same enormous castle and found herself being chased by bizarre-looking creatures, half-human, half-beast of sorts. And the dreams always ended in the same way: a request, a desperate plea for help.

Feeling rather isolated from the family who wouldn't believe her, Lily began going for strolls through and around Hogsmeade alone where she could mull over her situation. She didn't resent her family for not believing her, for she could hardly believe that this was happening to her. True, Lily Evans had always dreamed of going on adventures, like the kind she read about in all her story books. But never once had she desired a mystery that depended solely on her unravelling it. She felt burdened by this task, and very alone.

The only person Lily felt she could speak to was her grandmother who lived too far away for them to meet frequently. But she theorised that Mrs MacDonald had gone through what she was; and, like herself, Mrs MacDonald wasn't believed. But the fighter within Lily persuaded her that this wasn't a challenge to be abandoned. If her dreams were to be believed, there were people out there – or rather, creatures – who needed her help. Lily felt somewhat ashamed of herself for being afraid of the creatures for the peculiarity of their appearances. After all, she had befriended Thestrals and several other magical creatures, what made these ones so different? It was on these thoughts Lily dwelled as she went for a walk about a week after Christmas.

Upon arriving at home, she found her mother rushing around from one room to the next, looking hassled, as though she was bottling up her emotions.

'What's wrong?' Lily asked concernedly, taking off her coat.

'It's your grandmamma,' said Mrs Evans in a shaky voice, her nose red. 'She's fallen very sick.'

'But – we just saw her last week! How can she be sick already?'

'Oh, this winter has been a bitterly cold one,' Mrs Evans sniffed. 'I suppose it was foolish of us to leave her alone in the cottage, seeing as she doesn't have your grandfather anymore …' She stared at Lily somewhat reproachfully, which made her recoil slightly.

'We can go visit Grandmamma, can't we?' Lily rushed on.

'Oh, Lily!' cried Mrs Evans. 'I simply don't think we have the money to hire another Thestral.'

'We don't have to hire one!' Lily persuaded. 'We can just find a wild one.'

'But they aren't tamed, Lily. Honestly. Thestrals are dangerous creatures; I have no idea in the world why you're determined to believe otherwise!'

'Perhaps we can sell some things to the second-hand shop?' Lily suggested. 'Surely there are things around the house we no longer need which are of value.'

'Like yourself?' Petunia sneered. She was standing by the doorway, wearing an expression of utmost loathing. 'Except you're hardly of any value.'

Lily ignored her and looked at her mother desperately. 'Please, Mamma?'

Mrs Evans sighed heavily and looked at her daughter who resembled her so uncannily. 'I'll gather up a few valuables and you can go into the town to sell them. By yourself.'

And so that was what Lily did. Donning her favourite cloak of a beautiful shade of periwinkle, she took the small bag of valuables her mother later handed her, and trudged along to the shops, the snow crunching under her frozen toes, half-wishing she hadn't suggested going. But she had to speak to her grandmother urgently, especially if it was to be the last time.

It took Lily quite a few minutes to get to the second-hand shop, slowed down by the depth of the snow. Once there, she removed the hood of her cloak and approached the counter. There was no one there for assistance.

'Hello?' Lily's voice broke as she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and continued: 'Is anyone there?'

A man suddenly Apparated behind the counter and stared down at Lily. He looked quite old; what little hair he had left was grey, a lighter shade than his thick beard. His eyes were such a pale shade of blue, Lily found herself suppressing a shiver; she felt as though his eyes could see right through her. In fact, Lily thought, they probably could.

'I've been expecting you,' he said mysteriously.

Lily tried to ignore the goosebumps she felt from his words. 'I'm here to sell some –'

'Yes, yes, I'm aware,' he cut across her quickly. 'You have come to sell some things to make some money to visit your sick grandmother.'

'How did you –?'

'I wouldn't hope for the best,' he continued. 'It's a downward slope from here. Should you succeed, you will live a life you couldn't imagine up in your wildest dreams. But you are a long way from there now. At present, the Thestral will guide you.'

'What are you talking about?' Lily questioned angrily, dropping the bag on the counter. 'Do you have to be so vague? Tell me more!'

'I will take the contents of the bag for a hundred Galleons,' the man rushed on.

'But you don't know what's in there!' she exclaimed. 'I don't even know what's in there!'

'Are you going to turn down a hundred Galleons?' He raised an eyebrow at her.

Lily felt torn between interrogating the man further about the things he had just said, and just getting rid of the bag and taking the money. She decided on the latter. She forced her expression to soften slightly as he handed her a bag full of money and walked out of the shop.

She was seething: the last thing Lily needed was more puzzles. She was already very confused, still hurt by the encounter with her mother and Petunia, and now she was afraid of losing her grandmother. It was all becoming too much – why her?

Lily was glad to arrive home where she could have distractions from her thoughts. She put the money bag down on the living room table in front of her mother.

She opened the bag and peered inside. 'How much did he give you?'

'A hundred Galleons he said,' Lily replied, taking off the hood on her cloak.

'Why did he give you that much?' she questioned sharply. 'The contents of that bag were only worth about twenty Galleons at most, which is enough to hire a Thestral. What did you say to him?'

Lily shrugged. 'I hardly said anything, he did all the talking.'

'Never mind, then,' Mrs Evans sighed, shaking her head. 'Grab some clothes, we're going to stay at Grandmamma's if we can. Hurry. Your father and I will try seeing if we can hire a Thestral now.'

Lily hurried upstairs and grabbed a bag to fill with as many clothes as she could. She flung her wardrobe door open and froze immediately. There, on top of a neat pile of clothes on the floor of her wardrobe, was _Hogsmeade: a History_, looking just as it always did. She looked down at the bag in her hands and realised it was the same one she had used to cover the book. She dropped it as though it burnt her hand and reached for another bag. Lily hastily shoved in as many dresses, skirts and blouses as the bag could fit. When she was done, she picked up the book reluctantly and went downstairs again.

Lily and Petunia sat in silence in the living room, awaiting their parents' arrival. They didn't have long to wait though; out of the window, Lily saw her parents pull up in a carriage pulled by a Thestral just as it began snowing again.

Lily scooped up her belongings and left the house ahead of Petunia. She climbed into the carriage to find that it looked a lot bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. Undoubtedly the extra Galleons the man at the second-hand shop had given them went to good use. They had room to breathe in this carriage, and room to place their bags.

As soon as Petunia had stepped into the carriage, the doors closed themselves and the Thestral began trotting away, first at a slower pace, and then much quicker – but Lily could only tell the carriage was going faster by the speed at which the scenery was whipping past them. She marvelled at the things money could buy for the short duration of the journey.

When they arrived at Lily's grandmother's house, it was to find that the cottage was as crowded as it was when they were there for Christmas; it became clear that it wasn't only the Evans family who decided to pay a visit to Mrs MacDonald.

Lily stepped out of the carriage with her bag and her book, cautious to go inside. She wasn't sure if she was prepared to see her grandmother in the state her mother told her she was in. She wasn't even sure she had recovered from the last death in the family, let alone prepared for another. She shook herself out of her reverie and instructed herself to get a grip; it was pointless thinking like that, and the most she could do right now was to focus on helping her grandmother feel better.

As soon as Lily got through the front doors of the cottage, she found herself enveloped tightly in Mary's arms. Lily hugged her back, feeling her shaking with tears; it was always serious when Mary began to cry. When they broke apart, Lily pulled Mary to the side and held her hands tightly.

'Is she looking that bad?' Lily asked in a quiet voice, half-dreading the answer.

Mary nodded, her golden eyes now red and puffy, matching her pink nose which was running dreadfully. Lily pulled out a clean tissue and gave it to Mary, who accepted it grudgingly; she didn't enjoy being made to feel like a young girl.

Lily put a consoling arm around her younger cousin who felt more like a sister to her than Petunia did, just as Marlene approached them. Lily was secretly glad to see Marlene was more composed than Mary; she didn't think she could handle comforting both of them. Marlene nodded to Lily as a way of greeting and sighed, leaning against the wall.

'She's been wanting to see you,' said Marlene abruptly over the babble in the living room, turning to look at Lily. 'She told me to tell you to go upstairs to her when you arrive.'

'How did she even know we'd be coming?' Lily questioned, her forehead creasing from curiosity.

Marlene shrugged. 'Search me.'

'Okay, well – I doubt I'll be long,' Lily lied. She put down her belongings and then gestured towards Mary, who was staring determinedly at her shoes, silently urging Marlene to watch over her.

'I'm fine,' Mary grumbled stubbornly, having correctly guessed the silent exchange.

Smiling ever so slightly, Lily made her way across the room and up the stairs. Lily had always preferred Mrs MacDonald's cottage – it had an aura of warmth and homeliness, one which her own home had been lacking lately. It was a small and cosy cottage for a small and lonely lady, made of stones of varying shades of greys and browns. In the late few weeks of spring and through most of the summer, the cottage would smell strongly of the honeysuckle which grew both in the front garden and the back garden of the cottage; in autumn and winter, the cottage would smell of wood burning in the fireplace, and of the numerous hot dishes Mrs MacDonald would prepare to keep them all warm.

But the cottage didn't smell like that now, and this was the first sign Lily read which indicated how serious the situation was.

At the top of the stairs, Lily changed her walk to a creep, put off by how much quieter it was upstairs to downstairs. She knocked gently on her grandmother's bedroom door and awaited a reply. The wooden door was opened by a man Lily didn't recognise – undoubtedly a distant relative who never bothered keeping much contact. There were many of them in the MacDonald family. He let her in and left the room, followed closely by a woman in posh attire who may have been his wife.

Lily only had eyes for her grandmother, who smiled weakly at her from her bed. Lily hurried over to her bedside and sat down, tears now threatening to spill from her eyes.

'Oh, Grandmamma,' she whispered softly.

Her grandmother merely smiled up at her. She looked very weary, and as though she had aged another decade since the last time they met. It had only now fully dawned on Lily just how frail and vulnerable her grandmother was.

Mrs MacDonald shook her head at Lily, telling her not to cry. Then she indicated that Lily should move closer, which Lily did.

'It's up to you,' Mrs MacDonald whispered to Lily. 'I know it's burdensome but I also know you will succeed. The book will help you, use the book.'

'I don't know how to do this,' Lily whispered back. 'Where do I go – what do I do – and how do I do this without you?'

'The book will give you answers,' was all Mrs MacDonald replied with. 'If I didn't think you could do this, I wouldn't be guiding you now. Do you trust me?'

Lily nodded, tears racing down her cheeks.

Just then, the door was flung open and Mr and Mrs Evans came rushing in, the latter looking as bad as her daughter with tears streaming down her face. Lily watched Mrs Evans embrace her mother as gently as she could. Feeling somewhat out of place and as though she was intruding on something private, Lily got up and left the room unnoticed, her head reeling with overwhelming emotions.

She stumbled down the stairs in a blur, her eyes welling up again. She massaged her temple as she made her way back to where Mary and Marlene had been, only to find they were already gone, and her belongings were still there. Not quite knowing what to do with her bag, she slung it around her shoulder and picked up _Hogsmeade: a History_. Lily decided to study the book in the somewhat quieter dining room to take her mind off her grandmother. That was, after all, the best use of books – an escape from reality.

*.*.*

Lily set the book down on the table and opened it, sighing heavily. It was in this moment that she knew she would take on the quest – whatever it entailed – even if it meant failing as her grandmother had. Perhaps even failing as Bathilda Bagshot's informant might have.

Pushing the thoughts of failure out of her mind, Lily turned to the pages which contained information about the "Beast", as it was continuously referred to. The illustrations were as frightening to her as when she first saw them, although still beautiful in an unusual way. After looking at several pictures, Lily came across some text which looked as though it could explain the pictures:

_It has been theorised that, several decades ago, the wizarding world was once ruled by a monarchy, a royal family who reigned for several centuries; perhaps, even, a millennium. This royal family has been said to have resided close to the village of Hogsmeade, as this village is the only settlement in the whole of Britain which is exclusive to the wizarding population._

_Sources claim that the monarchy was lost after the young prince of the castle cruelly mocked a man who sent in an application to work at the castle, as he was in need of food and shelter, and desired to work for his place. Upon being jeered at, the wizard placed a powerful curse on the castle and, effectively, the whole of the wizarding population, so that the castle became unplottable (that's to say, impossible to find), and the subjects of the royal family forgot them completely._

_It has also been speculated that the curse upon the castle transformed all of its inhabitants into beasts of varying sorts, and confined the residents to the castle grounds, so that they can neither leave, nor be found to help._

The text continued, but before Lily could continue reading, the door banged open and Petunia burst in, her face tear-stricken, scarlet, and very angry.

'This is all _your_ fault,' she vented. '_All_ of this is your fault.'

Feeling vulnerable in her seat, Lily stood up and packed her book away, a confused expression on her face. 'Do you care to tell me _what_ exactly is my fault?' Lily enquired, raising an eyebrow, although she knew the answer – it was always the same.

'Everything is your fault!' Petunia screeched. 'It's your fault she's in this state!'

'How is it _my_ fault in the slightest?' Lily retorted, her anger rushing to her defence. 'I didn't suddenly decide to wave my wand and make Grandmamma ill.'

'She wouldn't even _be_ ill if she had Grandpapa to take care of her,' Petunia spat. 'And Grandpapa would still be here if it weren't for you.'

In an instant, Lily's vision was blurred with tears she couldn't hold back. They dropped down her face like bullets as she tried to keep her voice strong. 'That wasn't _my_ fault.'

'If it wasn't your fault,' hissed Petunia, her voice now quiet but still full of malice, 'then why does everyone blame you?'

'They … they don't …' Lily sniffed. But she knew this was a lie: since her grandfather's death, no one, not even her parents, had treated her the same as they did before. No one could hardly stand to look at her for long, besides her cousins.

'You're the worst thing that's ever happened to this family,' Petunia continued, staring with narrowed eyes full of pure, undiluted hatred. 'We would be so much better off without you.'

Feeling herself crumbling as more tears streamed down her face, Lily took her bag and pushed past Petunia. She couldn't make out anything in front of her except crowds of people she wanted to get away from. She thought she heard people calling her name, but she didn't stop for them. All she knew was that she wanted to leave, to get out of the claustrophobic cottage, away from Petunia, away from everything.

And it was then that she knew where her legs and her desperation were taking her.

*.*.*

He stood by the large open window, staring out into the night, allowing the breeze to ruffle through his fur. It was very lonely up there; he could see in the distance, the shadow of Hogsmeade village where people were undoubtedly cosy in their beds, unaware of the plight of their forgotten prince.

'Your highness, I feel it is time we give up,' came a deep voice from somewhere in the shadows. 'It's not happening. No one is coming to save us and we can't save ourselves. It's over.'

'It's NOT over,' he growled in response, turning to his steward, although it was so dark he couldn't see him. 'I got us into this catastrophe, and I _will_ get us out of this. Just you wait. We'll be human again.'

'But, your highness –'

'For too long you all have paid for my mistake,' he continued, ignoring his steward completely. 'And you have done so without complaint. As prince, I will do right by those who are loyal to me. Have faith, Moony, because every dark passageway which has never been ventured in before leads somewhere you would never have dreamed you could go.'

The steward named Moony bowed his head and left the prince alone with his thoughts and his burning desire to find a way to lift the curse; or rather, find the person who was to lift the curse, wherever they may be.

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the late update and thanks for holding on! I noticed a lot of you had questions and I just want to promise you that all of those questions will be answered at some point, and hopefully in a way that won't let anyone down.**

**Constructive criticism is more than welcome, and thanks again!**


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